


A Good Mechanic is Hard To Find

by Rothecooldad



Series: flashfic rovember [6]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Choking, FAHC, GTA AU, M/M, Origin Story, i guess, mechanic Matt, meet ugly, not exactly a meet cute huh, wow another fic where i disrupt matts sleep what a shock, yall im editing this while heavily dissociating im so sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-07
Updated: 2018-11-07
Packaged: 2019-08-19 23:26:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16544342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rothecooldad/pseuds/Rothecooldad
Summary: “Alright, Kid, you’ve got thirty seconds to explain why the fuck you were messing with my bike before I snap your scrawny, little neck.”





	A Good Mechanic is Hard To Find

**Author's Note:**

> disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. All characters are based upon the internet personalities portrayed by members of Achievement Hunter and in no way are meant to reflect the lives of the actual person or persons themselves.

“Wait!” Matt squeaked out, panic flaring in his chest. He could feel the pinch of the man’s nails around his throat, and he shuddered, trying to still himself. He’d definitely be seeing bruises in the morning. If he even lived that long. Licking his chapped lips, Matt forced himself to continue before the man could completely cut off his airway. “Before you kill me,” He felt the fingers twitch. “Let me explain!”

 

It was a risky move, but the chances of him walking away were slim to none anyway, so Matt stood there, almost dangling from the man’s grip, and  _ prayed. _

 

“Y’know what, Kid? If this had been a decade ago, you’d’ve been bleeding out before you even got to beg.” He paused a moment, and Matt thought  _ this is it.  _  “But I guess I’m going soft.” Matt would have had to disagree on that one. Nothing about this man was  _ soft _ . From Matt’s position, he could feel the strength, the hard lines of his body pulled taut, holding back when he could do  _ so much worse _ . Staring into the skull face paint that  _ of course he recognized, he wasn’t stupid,  _ Matt could tell that every part of this man screamed “ _ Danger _ .” The thought of him ever being described as  _ soft  _ was so ridiculous it was almost laughable.

 

Matt didn’t laugh. He just thanked his lucky stars that the man --  _ The Vagabond, he corrected himself, because if he was going to fucking die he might as well call a spade a spade and acknowledge just who it was that killed him --  _ loosened his fingers minutely, and Matt was able to suck in a much needed breath before he could pass out. 

 

“Alright, Kid, you’ve got thirty seconds to explain why the fuck you were messing with my bike before I snap your scrawny, little neck.”

 

He tried to gulp, movement halted by the large hand still wrapped around his throat. Matt took a staggering breath, desperately trying to compose himself enough to speak, and hopefully, not make a bigger mess out of this situation than it already was.

 

“Twenty five seconds. I’d hurry if I were you.”

 

“Al- alright! Um, ya see,” Matt stuttered out. “I, uh. I live just over there.” Not willing to risk moving too much and provoking the hulking man with Matt’s life in his _ literal hands _ , he flicked his eyes to the apartment complex across the street from where they stood inside the garage. He assumed it was The Vagabond’s because of the bike, but the other vehicles led him to believe it was shared. The purple and orange painted a terrifying picture that Matt was choosing to ignore, because one Fake was enough, thanks. It occurred to him briefly in the moment that, perhaps, pointing out where he slept to the known gang member that clearly had no qualms with killing him was maybe not the greatest idea. But, hell, if he wasn’t going to live past the night, it’s not like it would fucking matter anyway. Might as well invite him in for fucking dinner, at this rate. 

 

The Vagabond raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed.

 

“Twenty.”

 

“I, uh. I w-work in an auto body shop, and, uh.” Matt paused to take another shallow breath. “Every n-night I can, uh, hear you go bby on your motor-, uh, motorcycle. And it just. It wakes me up, y’know?” He gnawed at his lip as he gathered his thoughts. Instead of having to face The Vagabond’s stare, Matt let his gaze go unfocused. “I don’t, uh, I don’t sleep well.” Another breath, slightly easier this time. “And when I do finally get t-to sleep, it’s always, uh, interrupted by your loud ass bike.” He internally winced at how harsh the last line came out.

 

“So, you were trying to sabotage my bike?” The Vagabond hissed out, nostrils flaring. His hand flexed around Matt’s throat, fingertips pressing into Matt’s carotid. Matt’s vision was starting to get fuzzy around the edges.

 

“No!” Matt tried to shake his head, but only succeeded in making the hold on his neck tighter. “Y-your muffler’s busted.” He smacked his lips, mouth dry. “Was gonna look at it.”

 

Apparently that statement wasn’t what The Vagabond expected, because all of a sudden the hand fell away from Matt’s throat. The sudden rush of unimpeded air was almost too much at once, Matt’s knees buckling under him. He knew, logically, that he should be using this opportunity to run away. But, as it was, he couldn’t stop the tremors in his body enough to stand without collapsing again, so he sat there trying to catch his breath, awaiting his fate as the man in front of him stared in disbelief.

 

“Let me get this straight,” The Vagabond said slowly, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers and smudging the paint underneath. It did nothing to make him seem less terrifying, and Matt was acutely aware that, while he may not be dangling from his fingertips anymore, he was still very much in danger. “You…” His eyes dragged across Matt’s body, and if he wasn’t in the midst of a panic attack, he might have felt embarrassed. “Broke into our garage… A garage that, in fact, has no less than three different security measures, each more complex than the last. At three in the morning.. To  _ fix my muffler?”  _ He scoffed. “All because you’re, what?  _ Tired?” _

 

“ _ Exhausted.”  _ Matt bit out, rubbing away the feeling of phantom hands choking the life out of him. “And when you say it like that, it sounds crazy.”

 

“Some might argue it was.”

 

“Well, I’ve never been much for debate.” Matt tried to stand again, but his legs gave out again. He sighed. “Look, are you going to kill me or not?” He doesn’t know what fucking possessed him to speak back like that. He’d blame it on the lack of oxygen, and the exhaustion that was running him ragged. It was fucking dumb, but Matt already faced his oncoming death that night, so he stopped giving a damn. 

 

The Vagabond pursed his lips, sizing him up, it seemed. 

 

“Who  _ are you?”  _ He asked incredulously, reaching down with his hand to help Matt up.

 

Against his better judgement --not that his better judgement was any less worse at this point -- he took it. The achingly familiar grip made him swallow roughly, but Matt tried to push it out of his mind. Felt different when it wasn’t trying to kill him, anyway.

 

“Name’s Matt.” He told him, locking eyes with The Vagabond defiantly. The Vagabond grinned.

 

“Well,  _ Matt, _ ” Matt wasn’t sure whether the shudder that went through him was leftover from before or something else entirely. “I’m feeling generous tonight. I’ll let you go now, maybe even get some sleep, and you can come back later,  _ with my permission this time,  _ and fix it.” He tilted his head. “Do a good job, and I’ll even see about paying you.”

 

It wasn’t a choice. Matt had been around the city enough to know how this works. He agreed, living under The Fake’s thumb, or he died. Might even die regardless. So Matt shrugged and repeated the words that had gotten him this far.

 

“Fuck it, why not?”

**Author's Note:**

> well this was the last fic i had written out ahead of time so press f to pay respects bc shits about to get rough on the writing front lads  
> watch me make a mess of myself over @ [ jeremwood ](https://jeremwood.tumblr.com)


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